


A spark

by Perelynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perelynn/pseuds/Perelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bell first appeared on the Quidditch field, Flint thought she looked like a small dishevelled sparrow. A short vignette on how Flint’s attitude towards Bell changed over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A spark

**Author's Note:**

> Once I got interested in the Flint/Bell pairing I realized the two could never be together in Hogwarts. There was no way eighteen-year-old Flint would court a girl four years his junior. As a Captain of a Quidditch team, he’d have enough female students of his own age swarming around. So, I tried to work within the age limits. Here is what I came up with.

When Bell first appeared on the Quidditch field, Flint thought she looked like a small disheveled sparrow. There was only one person who seemed smaller and more unkempt than her. It was, of course, Potter, who somehow tricked his way into the team. 

Bell flew up into the air. Flint found his opinion changing promptly. The girl was so tiny she could hide behind her broomstick if she exhaled. Bell bit her lip in excitement, all wound up like a spring ready to unfurl. For some reason, she reminded him of a kitten waylaying a cleaning lady to attack her slippers.

She also knew her business, he had to admit sourly a couple of minutes later. It took a considerable effort to force the little gnat off her route once she chose her maneuver. It was next to impossible to wrench the Quaffle out of her grasp once she laid her hands on it. 

Flint never missed a chance to send a Bludger her way. Quidditch is not a women’s sport, he would think wryly, nor is it a children’s game. She’d better get used to the rough play. But she was doing exactly that, wasn’t she? She always managed to dodge away, light and lithe like a martlet. 

It was not him who got her eventually. Montegue threw a Bludger at Spinnet, but missed, and the ball collided with Bell instead. Flint watched the girl and her broom spin and reel and finally rocket down alongside the stand, feeling oddly disappointed. Wasn’t that what he was after all along? But the whole point was that Bell always contrived to escape. He brightened up when he saw her on the ground jumping on her feet and mounting her broom like nothing happened. 

Marcus grinned. His favorite pastime was not over just yet.

 

***

His last year in Hogwarts was almost over, when he went to Hogsmead with Leticia Baddock. They entered ‘The Three Broomsticks’ and ordered butterale like exemplary students they presumably were. When at the table, Flint fished a bottle of firewhisky out of his bag and poured a generous measure to their cups. Leticia winked at him, pleased. 

From behind him, he heard familiar voices. A couple of tables apart from them the three Gryffindor Chasers were enjoying their afternoon. Johnson, Spinnet and Bell. It was the first time Flint saw Bell wearing something other than school robes or her Quidditch outfit. Today, she was clad in a roughneck jumper and a Scottish skirt. Flint whistled in surprise. He never suspected that under all those robes Bell was hiding a pair of awesome legs. ‘The little sparrow was not so little anymore,’ Flint thought as he took in new details: her small round breasts, a nice waist, firm buttocks...

Baddock touched Marcus’s hand, interrupting his research.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked. ‘It’s been five minutes and you are still staring at the Gryffindors!’

Flint didn’t deign her with a reply. Leticia started chatting again, something about the exams, but Marcus was not listening. His gaze wandered around the room until it returned to the little Gryffindor and settled there. Bell looked at him nervously, alarmed by his attention. She whispered something in Spinnet’s ear. Alicia turned and eyed Flint menacingly. He grinned. 

Baddock scoffed at him and stood up, shoving her chair away loudly.

‘I’m going back to Hogwarts,’ she declared, stomping away angrily. Flint pondered his options. He could follow his date, but it was no fun. He opted for staying where he was and staring at Bell some more. Gryffindors were so hilarious when vexed.

 

***

Hogwarts years were finally behind. Flint was lucky to be offered a position in ‘Falmuth Falcons’. He accepted of course. He was busy as hell making his way up the career ladder. He forgot about Bell entirely.

It was when their Seeker, Weir, dropped off the broomstick during a match and had to be transported to Mungo, did Flint see Bell again. 

Marcus stayed at Weir’s side while the bone growth potion was administered, and for the first painful half an hour of recovery. After that, having made sure Weir was comfortable, he set off.

He was not far away from the exit when he spotted a familiar silhouette in one of the corridors. A girl, young and skinny, was moving slowly along the wall, holding to it with one hand. She was obviously in pain. Her breath was laboured, her movements stiff. Her lusterless brown hair was falling down her back, tied in a ponytail.

‘Bell!’ Flint called after her, surprised. ‘Is that you?’

The girl raised her eyes on him, confused.

‘Flint? What are you doing here?’  
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, eyeing her skinny outline. ‘Did you get hit by a Bludger again?”  
‘No,’ Bell replied curtly. She tried to go around him without letting go of the wall.  
‘Then what happened?’ he insisted.  
‘A curse,’ she told him through gritted teeth. ‘A dark magic spell followed by a full body paralysis.’

Flint felt his jaw drop.

‘But… how?’ he managed. ‘Weren’t you at Hogwarts? It’s supposed to be safe in there!’  
‘It’s a long story,’ Bell told him darkly. ‘And now excuse me, I have two more rounds to do.’

She staggered away on her weak legs, resolutely moving forward.

‘Um,’ Flint said into her back. ‘You get well, ok?’  
‘Thanks,’ the girl replied without turning his way.

***

He landed in St.Mungo again several months later, this time with his own hand broken. It was a tricky job to piece it back together, but finally it was done and he could head home. He remembered Bell. She was probably released long ago. Still, his legs moved on their own accord, taking him to the corridor where he had met her. 

He was almost there when he heard her laughter. He recognized it immediately. Bell, together with Johnson and the Weasley twins, was sitting on the windowsill, swinging her legs. The change in her countenance was striking. Her hair was shining, her posture regained its plasticity, her cheeks were rosy and round again. She was recovering.

‘Hey, Bell!’ he called. 

The Gryffindor turned her head, surprised. She grew even more astonished when she saw who was calling. 

‘Flint? You again?’  
‘I see you are better,’ he observed, examining her. ‘When are you going home?’  
‘The day after tomorrow,’ Bell answered. She must have waited for the moment with great anticipation, as the mere mentioning of it made her face split into a wide grin.  
‘Good job,’ he said, for no particular reason. ‘Have a good one, then.’  
‘You too,’ she replied. 

He was leaving when he heard Johnson speak. 

‘What do you mean, ‘again’?’

***

His ex-fellow students were rather surprised to see him on the stands. Marcus had to do a lot of shrugging and to make a certain amount of noncommittal noises before they stopped pestering him with questions. Finally he was left alone. The school gossipers had decided he had come as a representative of ‘The Falmouth Falcons’ to look for fresh talents. 

It was the first time when he saw the Gryffindor team playing from the stands. Before, he always met them in the field. Watching them now he understood very clearly why Malfoy had never managed to catch the Snitch. Potter flew like he was born on a broomstick. As for Bell, she was a living lightning, a storm genie, a blistering spark. He could hardly believe he had seen her, weak and thin, in Mungo just last November. This girl was brimming with energy, with life, with purpose. And sometimes he saw something in her face, something that reminded him of the disheveled kitten entering the field six years ago. 

 

***

Next time Marcus saw her after the match ‘The Falcons’ had with ‘The Montrose Magpies’. He saw Bell in the crowd when the team admirers rushed to congratulate the winners. He worked his way through the tumult towards her. 

‘Bell!’ he called.  
‘Hey Flint.’ She gave him an excited smile. ‘Congratulations! Great game!’

Suddenly, the victory tasted much sweeter.

‘Come celebrate with us!’ he told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. He marveled at how fine and graceful she looked, especially with him towering next to her. 

His invitation came as a surprise to Bell, but she didn’t refuse. She wouldn’t pass on the chance, she said, to celebrate with her favorite team.

His teammates gave her a very warm welcome, delighted at the fact she played as a Chaser at Hogwarts. Two or three people wondered at her friendship with Flint, him being a Slytherin and her a Gryffindor. She shrugged the questions off. Nobody pressed the matter. They were all adults now, the old school rivalry forgotten.

Flint was the soul of the evening. He japed, joked, told stories and overall talked thrice as much as anybody expected him to. Bell listened, which made him talk more. The others listened too, making jolly comments on his sudden fit of eloquence. 

Then the party was over. One by one, his teammates Disapparated. Bell stood up, too.

‘Thank you for the invitation,’ she said.  
‘Thank you for coming,’ Flint replied happily, drunk on the firewhisky and her presence. 

Bell hesitated. He could see she wanted to ask something. She didn’t. 

‘Bye then!’ she said instead.

He opened his mouth to ask her out, but she Disapparating before uttered the words. 

***

Flint sent Bell a ticket to his next match. Her owl brought the answer the same day. In her note, the girl was thanking him and assuring she would come no matter what. Marcus felt like a balloon floating in the sky. 

She did come, but not alone. Together with her there was an ex-Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Roger Davis. Flint was furious. The rival team had to replace all their Chasers throughout the match. Marcus was vicious with his Bludgers today, aiming them with hellacious precision, imagining Davis to be the target. 

Still, he was pleased when Bell approached him after the game. That idiot Roger was at her heels, talking nonsense (‘Wow, Flint, what a game, those poor Chasers would remember you forever, you glorious bastard.’) and trying to shake his hand. Marcus shook Bell’s hand instead. He found himself missing the warmth of her palm the moment he let go. 

‘Okay, we’ll be leaving,’ Bell said. ‘Gratz once again!’

She smiled at him, and that was it. 

‘Wait!’ he shouted, grabbing her hand. ‘You.. how about a dinner some time?’

Davis stopped his babbling mid-word and was now eyeing Flint suspiciously. Bell blushed prettily.

‘Um, thanks,’ she said. ‘But I guess not.’

Davis put his arm around Bell’s shoulders and led her away.

‘Let me know if you change your mind!’ Flint called after them.

***

She did, in fact, change her mind. A couple of weeks later, her owl was again at his window. Bell was calling a rain check on his offer. ‘When?’ he asked, forgetting all the niceties like greetings and byes in his haste to reply. ‘Tonight works,’ the girl replied. She must have had an argument with Davis, Flint thought gleefully. 

He was exactly right. 

The first half an hour was awkward. They were sitting in his favorite restaurants, playing with their food and asking clumsy questions. Flint ordered some wine, an old vintage famous for making any conversation run smoother. The wine lived up to its reputation. Some goblets later Flint and Bell were talking like old friends. After yet another Quidditch story Marcus suddenly realized he hadn’t got a slightest idea what the girl was up to after Hogwarts. 

‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘What are you doing nowadays?”

Bell smiled enigmatically.

‘I’m working at a bookstore,’ she replied.

‘Flourish and Blotts?’ he asked, amazed. He never imagined her to be a bookworm.

‘Nope.’ Bell laughed. ‘It’s a small bookshop with a specialty in Transfiguration and Animagic. My father’s running it.’

Flint had to stop himself from making a face. Books were never his thing. Neither was Transfiguration, to be honest. 

‘Books on Animagic?’ he repeated. ‘I would never think you could make money on that. Aren’t there too few Animagi to begin with?’  
‘You only need a few,’ Bell replied. ‘Most Animagi invest huge effort into their talent. Turning into an animal is just the first step. After that, people spend years perfecting their animal form. Have you ever seen Professor McGonagall turn into a cat?’  
‘Um,’ Flint said, too busy watching Bell talk to really try to remember.  
‘She has marks around her eyes,’ the girl informed him. ‘Like the glasses she wears in human form. This is considered an impure transformation. Lots of Animagi try to get rid of any traces of their human form reflected in their animal shape.’  
‘Did you meet lots of Animagi?’ Flint asked her, curious. ‘By the way, have you ever thought to try it yourself?  
‘Of course I have,’ Bell told him archly. ‘Back in Hogwarts. But it’s a very risky and time-consuming business. I had to choose between this and Quidditch. Guess what my choice was.’ 

Flint indulged himself imagining Bell turned into some beastie. Which form would she take, he wondered. His bets were on kittens and sparrows. 

The finished their meal and went for a walk in the London streets. The evening was so warm like it was summer, not spring. Bell put on her jacket, then laughed and took it off, remaining in a light short-sleeved blouse. Flint liked this blouse, as well as the tight jeans snuggling the girl’s beautiful legs and firm bum. He wanted to take Bell’s hand. He wanted to pull her close. He wanted to touch those red lips with his. He could see it vividly in his imagination, and yet, he stalled. What if she doesn’t think about him this way? He was a Slytherin, she was a Gryffindor, and she only just graduated, the school stereotypes still fresh in her head. What if she freaks out? She is so petite, he’s practically a giant compared to her. She was so delicate, so nice-smelling, so pretty. Davis was an idiot to let her go. Bless him.

Flint gathered all the courage he could muster and touched the girl’s hand. She didn’t startle, didn’t snatch it away. Marcus took it as a permission to take her hand into his. Bell snorted.

‘What?’ he asked suspiciously.  
‘I have no idea what you’re up to,’ she grinned. ‘But it looks like you’re courting me.’  
‘I am courting you,’ he said, mildly offended.  
‘That’s what surprises me,’ she told him. ‘I’m a Gryffindor and four years your junior. Or did you get tired of the admirers your own age? Girls were swarming you for as long as I remember.’

Flint couldn’t help but grin smugly. This much was true. Despite his plain looks, he never had problems finding a date, him being a Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. It was all not serious, however. Bell was. 

‘When I first saw you, you looked like an angry kitten,’ he told her. ‘I still cannot believe you managed to dodge all my Bludgers.’  
‘I was twelve,’ the girl reminded him. ‘This sounds more than slightly unhealthy.’  
‘I’m not saying I liked you then,’ he objected. ‘I found you rather annoying, actually.’

Bell grinned. 

‘Now, that’s a compliment a girl can relish on.’  
‘Then there was that day in Hogsmead,’ he remembered. ‘You were sitting in a pub with Spinnet and Johnson. That was when I first noticed you’re turning into a pretty lady.’  
‘I was fourteen,’ Bell mused. ‘Better than twelve, but still questionable.’  
‘I once came to Hogwarts when you were in your sevenths year,’ Flint said, not sure if this conversation would lead him anywhere, but unable to stop. ‘You just got out of Mungo. I watched you play. You were awesome. Ever since then I am...’ 

He fell silent, afraid to say the words. 

‘You are what?’ Bell asked, looking inquiringly into his black eyes.  
‘I am… I was… I wanted to do this,’ he finished lamely, bringing her close and putting his hands around her waist. 

The girl lifted her arms hesitantly, then put them around his neck. Exhilarated, Marcus bent forward and kissed her. 

It was all he imagined and more. She smelled so nice, some women’s fragrance with a tiny bit of sweat. Her lips were soft and warm, robbing him of the last remnants of his composure. He groaned and grabbed her, as much of her as his huge hands could claim, pressing her tight against him, kissing her like he dreamt of doing ever since that match in Hogwarts. Bell made a soft whimpering sound. He loosened his grasp hurriedly, afraid that he hurt her. She opened her eyes, looked up at him and smiled. It was the most electrifying smile he had ever seen. 

Heart racing, palms sweating, blood boiling in his veins, Flint reached to kiss Bell once again, abandoning himself to the long-awaited pleasure.


End file.
